


Let There Be Damage Ensued and Tabloid News

by aleela



Series: The Lost Myth of True Love [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, Junmyeon has work and can't deal with his shit, M/M, Oh Sehun-centric, Sehun is kinda drunk very gay and doesn't know how to deal with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-13 01:56:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18022643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleela/pseuds/aleela
Summary: He left little pieces of himself in every nook and cranny of Junmyeon's apartment, his own scent on the mattress in his bedroom, the shape of his body in his arms, and the scorching heat on his soft, soft lips.





	Let There Be Damage Ensued and Tabloid News

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaand i'm back on my bullshit, writing instead of studying >:) god i fucking hate myself, but anyway, here's seho!!!!!!!!!
> 
> the working title for this one was 'one in everlasting peace' from exit music by radiohead and i wrote the first half listening to it, the second part was written while listening to hozier's new album (which is fucking amazing, thank you my favourite forest nymph), more precisely the song, as it was; and the title is from dinner & diatribes
> 
> if this makes no sense just imagine it's all sehun's drunk rambling, i'm rlly sorry for the cringey sexy sentences but like, thank you for reading <3 would love to see some comments too (!!!), all kudos are always appreciated :)
> 
> -ela

Some would call them star-crossed lovers, but Sehun would say they’re just two fools who got ahead of themselves and finished their non-existent relationship even before it started.

The dates that weren’t dates, the kisses that were always more biting or moaning outright into each other’s mouth, the fucking that was decisively _not_ love making. The _fuck yous_ that were more _love yous_ than anything malicious, but none of them could admit that to themselves.

He always felt like he was meant for something more, something greater in life – lavish parties, and golden rings, and expensive tailored suits, Rolex’ on his wrists. Junmyeon could most definitely provide it all, but Sehun is too proud for his own good. He’s going to make a name of himself in the modelling industry. He does not need, or want, or yearn for, companionship.

He likes to complicate his life as much as he can, and that’s how he always finds himself from drunkenly crying into Chanyeol’s arms, to drunkenly bagging onto Junmyeon’s apartment door, unattractively sobbing, getting his expensive shirts wet and snotty. His friends do always tell him he’s an ugly crier.

The door opens up with Junmyeon standing on the other side in his silk pyjamas and bunny slippers, obviously having just been awoken by Sehun’s so called knocking (which really was just him kicking the door with his foot as hard as he could, until he woke Junmyeon up, and half the other residents probably, as well). He’s squinting up at him, and sighing loudly and dramatically once the realization of just who its is that woke him up alights his eyes. He leaves the door open and shuffles tiredly further into his open space apartment.

“Took you long enough,” he whispers once Sehun has taken off his coat, haphazardly left his shoes somewhere in the vicinity of the shoe rack, and come close enough to hug Junmyeon from behind while he makes them both a cup of coffee. Not the best idea at 4 am, but the talk was long overdue 3 months ago already and only now has Sehun gathered enough courage to show his face in front of Junmyeon, since the last time in the hotel.

“You can’t just walk around the city drunk Sehunnie, there’s paps everywhere,” Junmyeon says as Sehun watches him pour water over two cups of instant coffee. He cringes inwardly, overly aware of the state of his life. “Remember what happened last time,” he shoots him a look over his shoulder, his eyes stay long enough on his face that he knows he wasn’t the only one left feeling lonely with their separation.

And the scene of Junmyeon harshly yelling into the phone receiver flashes across his mind. The dark suit, and even darker eyes, and Sehunnie sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed, with a lump in his throat, halfway to crying (again). And the ~~fucking~~ love making after the issue was resolved. Sehun gasping for breath from the force of Junmyeon’s thrusts, thanking him with every puff of air he could spare.

“I know I messed up, hyung.” Pouting, he ignores his last remarks as he softly kisses his neck, all the way down to his exposed shoulder. He goes to suck a mark at the juncture of Junmyeon’s neck and jaw, and suddenly his face is being pushed away by a very annoyed Junmyeon.

“Listen honey, I know you like to solve your problems with sex, but we’re not doing it now with you drunk as fuck, _and_ in my fucking kitchen,” Junmyeon harshly whisper-shouts at him.

It’s still that time of the night when anything above a soft talking voice would disturb the everlasting peace that resides across his apartment on the days that Sehun would inevitably end up at here even though they were ‘kind of broken up’ and also ‘kind of never actually been together either.’ He left a piece of himself in every nook and cranny of this place, his own scent on the mattress in Junmyeon’s bedroom and the shape of his body in his arms.

“Please,” Sehun whispers back brokenly, the blending of consonants and vowels almost incomprehensible. He’s a grown man, he’s not about to cry instead of talking to his almost (kind of) significant other, something significant for sure. “I don’t wanna talk right now.”

“No,” Junmyeon says sharply, breaking the spell of silence the place still held thus far. “You’re not going to whine about this or I’ll just leave you here.” And there’s no doubt in his mind that Junmyeon would let him fall down and onto his kitchen floor without him as a crouch, leave him to sleep there and wake up to Junmyeon leaving for work and looking at him with that disapproving look in his eyes, as if saying ‘See, this is what you make me do,’ as he bounds over his legs to pick up his car keys, and still leaves him to pick himself up on his own.

 

Next time he blinks, he finds himself sitting on the couch in front of the TV mounted on the wall, right next to the bookshelf holding an array of colourful book covers. He hears a sigh, and sees Junmyeon carrying a pillow and blankets.

The coffee sits forgotten on the kitchen counter, brown rings of it spilled like paint, like Sehun’s emotions, all over the place.

“But hyung, I wanna sleep with you,” he pathetically snivels, reaching for Junmyeon and making grabby motions with his hands.

“I don’t trust either of us, and I don’t want you to do anything you would regret in the morning.” Trust him to always be the level headed one in their _not_ -relationship.

“I’m going to sleep now, and I have work in the morning I need you to stay in the apartment until I return. Okay, Sehunnie?” Junmyeon almost begs him, his voice whisper soft, half way to breaking from exhaustion, cradling his cheeks in his soft, soft hands.

Sehun knows the power he holds in those hands, the power to break and mend him, always used for the latter. He nods, still pouting, when Junmyeon decides to give in, and kisses him softly on the lips. He pulls back, leaving his mouth scorching, aching for more, and wanting harder.

Sehun pulls him back down to the couch with him, and Junmyeon submits, letting him slot their mouths together, letting him taste his sweetness, and all the bitterness Sehun has left about this thing between them evaporates into thin air, disappears without a trace, and leaves him filled with something akin to happiness and love in his, still intoxicated, mind.

The second he puts his hands on his waist with every intention of pulling him into his lap, Junmyeon makes a little noise in the back of his throat, something in between a moan and a cry for help.

“No, no… We can’t.” He pushes at his shoulders, and somewhat reluctantly stands up, putting space between them and standing across from him next to the door to his bedroom, in record time.

Sehun feels cold, not from the air in the apartment, but from the emptiness of his arms, without Junmyeon’s weight laying securely on his chest. Junmyeon sighs once more, and Sehun knows it’s his way of saying _good night_. Of saying ‘ _please stay here until I come back, please don’t run away again_.’ And Sehun realizes how incredibly lucky he is to have someone support him when he’s like this.

He smiles a bit when he sees that Junmyeon left the door to his room open, a sign that says ‘ _it’s okay I’m not really mad at you, and I understand_.’

He closes his eyes, and calls a soft “Good night” to Junmyeon, and before the alcohol threatens to pull him deep, deep down, he swears he hears Junmyeon murmuring an “I love you.”

 

And Sehun’s not sure which part of the day, and what turn of the events made him end up under Junmyeon. On his soft, black Egyptian cotton sheets, his hands working through the velvety strands of his product-less hair, falling like curtains around him when they kiss. Wet mouths and clacking teeth. The fact that he never expected to touch him again, at least not today, has him shivering in delight, smiling a little hidden smile for having gotten his way.

The way Junmyeon makes him break apart at the seams, makes him moan out in staccato – words of praise and _fuck yous_ that are now more _love yous_ than ever before.

God, he wishes and prays this moment never ends; he could live suspended in this tick of time and be the happiest man alive. The earthly distractions, and their bodies their only devices in the shit-storm that is life.

He has hope they will hold on and hold out, all fight in him fizzling out and replaced by the brightest light, and satisfaction like he never felt before in the realization that this person right here, this man.

His Junmyeon.

Is who he wishes to spend the rest of ever, however long that ends up being, as one entity, one being connected together by the red string, by something bigger that the world itself.


End file.
